


trouble

by jayyxx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff, I can't help myself, Kid Bucky Barnes, Kid Steve Rogers, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War Bucky Barnes, Sharing a Bed, little angst, sry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayyxx/pseuds/jayyxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Little Barnes is always looking out for you, ain't he Stevie?" </p><p>"No foolin'." Says Steve, but accepts the umbrella Bucky holds over their heads. </p><p>Bucky laughs. "If I didn't watch out for ya', you woulda' freezed' half to death out here!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	trouble

**Author's Note:**

> oh shit waddup!?  
> i wrote this on my phone and some guy asked me why i was typing so fast so i told him i was in a text fight with someone. it worked.  
> the song is Sedona by houndmouth. gorgeous song

_Trouble on my left,_  
_Trouble on my right,_  
_I've been facing trouble almost all my life._  
_My sweet love, won't you pull me through?  
_ _Everywhere I look I catch a glimpse of you,  
_ _I said it was love and I did it for life, did it for you,_

_**trouble - cage the elephant** _

"Steve?" he calls as he slams the apartment door. there's no answer. "Ms Sarah?"

"Buck!" yells Ms Sarah, coming around the corner with a dish rag in her hands. "come in dear, steve has just gone down to the market."

Bucky tips his head, looking down at his wet shoes and coat . "But it's raining, Ms Sarah..." 

"huh?" she looks him over, taking in his soaked exterior from the walk over. "oh my. here," she says, running by him to grab and umbrella from the basket bedside the door. "take this and go find him, you'll catch him if you dash." 

"yes ma'am." says Bucky with a smile, taking the umbrella. 

"run on, then." Ms Sarah says, kissing his forehead. he does just that. 

 

Steve is looking over the apples from a man named John's cart. "How much are these?" he asks as soon as Bucky arrives.

"Stevie! What'cha doin' out here all wet!?" He asks, opening the umbrella to cover him. John smiles at them both. 

"Little Barnes is always looking out for you, ain't he Stevie?" 

"No foolin'." Says Steve, but accepts the umbrella Bucky holds over their heads. 

Bucky laughs. "If I didn't watch out for ya', you woulda' freezed' half to death out here!" 

Steve laughs too, leaning into Bucky. "Can we have three apples, Mr John?" 

"Sure thing little fella." He says, loading a paper bag. "only 23¢." 

Steve hands over the quarter his Ma gave him. John gives him two small pennies back. "Thank you." Steve says, smiling warm. He links arms with Bucky as he walks away from the stand. 

"What else ya gonna get?" Bucky asks, fitting the wet umbrella over their heads. 

"Ma just said something for suppa'." replies steve, watching his sneakers get wet in the puddles. 

"How is Ms Sarah?" Bucky asks. "She didn't even notice it was rainin' before she sent you missing!" 

Steve shrugs. Squeezes Buckys arm. "Not sure. She say she's fine, and even if she ain't, I don't know how to help her." 

Bucky stops to turn to him. Steve doesn't look at him. Steve is only nine, while Bucky is already ten, nearing eleven. He's small and fragile and ever since they met last year, Bucky had promised to protect him. He doesn't know how to protect him from his mothers worsening condition. It scares them both. 

Bucky brushes blonde hair out of the boys eyes. "How's a'bout we get some biscuits from Mrs Janet? That'll make the both of ya feel better, ay?"

Steve chuckles. Blushes. "Sure thing, Buck." They walk again, arms linked and feet splashing in mud. 

 

They’re just kids, just silly little kids, so others bypass the held hands and arms over shoulders. Sarah pushes them to sleep in the bed more, for their feet hang off the end of the couch cushions and their toes dangle on the cold floor. Steve always blushes and tells says _Ma… quit teasin’ us._ But she never stomps her feet and force them under the thick blankets on Steve’s bed unless he’s got a cold or its below freezing outside. Today was one of those days. They didn't test her. 

Bucky lays on his side of the bed (funny how the left side is now "his side") and accidentally forgets to sleep. Steve is curled up on his side, pressed his face into Buckys side. Bucky turns, curls into him, and the smaller boy moves to lay so Bucky can wrap around him. “Hm… Buck? You alright?" 

"just need a hug is all." 

"Alright, I can do that." he says and they both chuckle. It’s easy this way. Whenn it gets really cold, Bucky always covers Steve to keep him warm. He’ll get a chest cold if he sleeps in the cold room, and his lungs will rack like their filled with cloth. 

Steve lays flat on his back and let's Bucky curl around him however he wants. He's cold, shivering almost. Sometimes Bucky forgets that he needs protecting too. 

Steve wraps his arms around him, holding him to his chest. Bucky bends one leg and puts it over Steve's hips, arms wrapping around him, his head resting on Steve's shoulder. 

Steve smile, rubbing his hair. "Better?" 

Bucky nods into him. 

They sleep, tangled, until morning light. 

 

Sarah had been blown out of the water when Steve and Bucky had come home after the sun had fallen, limping with their faces bloodied. 

She sits Steve on the countertop, and Bucky on the lidded toilet. A warm washcloth runs down both of their faces, neither of them minding to cover the hisses of pain. Steve’s lip is busted, Bucky’s cheek is cut from the bully’s ring. Neither of them answer when she asks what happened. 

She gives them both a firm talking to, leaning on the counter with both boys standing in front of her. Steve looks like he may fall asleep, but Bucky is standing straight at the solider he will be one day, listening and nodding. After a few too many minutes of being yelled at, Steve turns and hides his face in his best friend’s neck. It doesn’t seem to matter that he’s thirteen now, he still needs Bucky as much as he used too. 

“I’m sorry Buck.” He mutters, effectively silencing his Ma.

“I’m sorry too, Stevie.” The other replies, turning to wrap an arm around him. 

Steve shakes in his hold. Sarah looks to the heavens. “Have you boys eaten?” Bucky shakes his head. She huffs. “Go on, get to bed. I’ll bring you some stew.”

They only disentangle for the walk. 

Sarah bring them two cups of broth, setting them on the beside table. Steve is completely under the covers, and Bucky is curled in a ball facing the wall, already asleep. She leaves, and comes back moments later with a thick, wool blanket, which she throws over the older boy’s form. 

“Ma?” Says Steve, poking his head out of the covers. 

“Yes, doll?”

“I gotta ask ya’ something.”

She sits down on her heels so he doesn’t have to come out of his cocoon of warmth any time soon. “What’s that?”

“Is it… Is it a sin for two fella’s to… be together?”

Sarah squints. “Why you thinkin’ like that?”

_( whatch’a doing out so late, Little Stevie?”_

_leave me alone, frankie._

_ay, where’s your partner? your little jane boy?_

_shuddup, frankie, why don’t you just scat._

_what, steve? you think your so hard boiled you can talk to me like that? those are tough words to be throwin’ without your boytoy with ya!_

_you leave him out!_  
ouch! you hood! get away from me!  
bucky! bucky, help! 

_betcha’ call that name a lot, dontcha?”_

_bucky had jogged the corner, rounded until he was crowding frankie up against the wall, planting a punch in his cheek. frankie was just some dumb punk in his eyes, used to go to their school until he’ dropped out. he was a no body as far as bucky was concerned. he ignored the punch to his cheek, dropping frankie from the wall to pound in his stomach._

_“you fags” he had called, crouched on the floor._

_“you’re a sad piker, frankie.” said bucky as he helped steve up. “i’d be the happiest man in the world if i ever find a dame that’s anything like steve.”_

_steve slumps over his shoulders, arms around his neck._

_“sinners, both of ya.” he’d called as they left. Steve shivered.)_

“No reason really.” Says Steve. Sarah brushes hair from his eyes. 

“Some think so.” She asks honestly. “but I don’t believe so.” 

She kisses his forehead, mutters “you gotta get love where you can,” and leaves the room. Steve turns to look at Bucky. 

“Thank you.” he whispers, hoping it transfers to Bucky’s dreams. And maybe it does, for he turns over, reaching blindly to hold onto Steve’s arm as he sleeps. Steve holds his hand, and falls asleep like his friend. 

 

 

 

“Flip the record" Bucky instructs. Steve groans, but stands reluctantly and does as told. Bucky is sprawled on the floor, white teeshirt tucked over his head with his chest exposed to the hot room. hottest day of the summer, the radio had said, but Steve thinks this room may be hotter than it is outside. 

Bucky had just celebrated his 16th birthday. he was excited to be able to drive, but his parents never really recovered from the Great Depression. Like Steve's Ma, they never had much money to start with. He wasn’t sure when he was ever going to get his own car.

Steve takes the record and turns it to side B, moves the pin and listens to the song fill the room like cool air. 

He feels light. he feels clear as he reaches down and pulls at Bucky's arm. "C'mon, dance with me."

Bucky whines. "It's too hot, Stevie."

"This is your favourite!" He begs, noting the song. _“When John Ford said wont you hop on in. To the stage coach baby gonna take you for a spin, oh oh”_ he sings, watching Bucky smile from the show. 

“Hey little Hollywood…” He sings, staring over at steve kneeling on the floor beside him. Steve hits him in the chest, waves his hands in an attempt to make him stand. _“You're gone but you're not forgot.”_

Bucky laughs at the funny faces he's pulling, and starts to push himself up. 

“You got the cash but your credit's no good…” They sing together, Steve reaching to pull Bucky up. “You flipped the script and you shot the plot!” 

Steve alternates pulling his arms back and forth, making the other boy’s shoulders shake. “And I remember! I remember when your neon used to burn so bright and pink,” Bucky laughs at him, but he picks up his feet to swing along with Steve. His hair is falling in front of his eyes, his suspenders are twisted and socks dirty. Bucky _loves_ him. 

Shit. He loves him. 

They’re swinging around Steve’s tiny bedroom on a hot summer day, Steve is flushed from the heat and his shirt buttons are half undone and his hands are soft in his own. 

“A Saturday night kinda pink!” Steve sings, and Bucky hadn’t even realized he had stopped singing. He smiles wide, reaching down to grab Steve round the waist and throw him up. He yells out, laughing and grabbing onto his shoulders. His feet kick as he goes up, but he lands gently as Bucky puts him back down. With his hands still on the taller boy’s shoulders, they swing like this, spinning on their toes and laughing until they’re faces hurt. 

The song is over too soon, too caught up in Steve’s pretty smile to remember to pay attention to his favourite song on the record. Bucky pushes Steve off him, who falls laughing, back to the bed. Bucky falls beside him. “Let’s get ice cream.”

Steve can’t stop grinning, thoughts of Bucky’s hands on his waist keeping him light and awake. 

 

Bucky likes chocolate ice cream, the kind with brownie chunks and chocolate chips mixed in. Steve likes strawberry, and it runs pink down his wrist. They sit under a red and white umbrella, Bucky teasing him about his stringy, sweaty hair the whole time. 

Neither of them know who brought it up, but they came to the decision to spend the rest of the day at the river under the bridge. Bucky chases him down the sidewalk and down the hill to the water. 

Slowly, Bucky makes his way down the rocks, stopping to kick off his shoes and socks. He pulls his shirt over his head, his belt and pants off. He kicks at the water until it’s cold over his toes. When he spins, Steve isn’t following, but instead holding his bundled up shirt to his chest like he’s regretting making the trip down here. 

Bucky goes to him, gentle as always. “Stevieeee.” He draws. 

"I'll drown."

"You will not." Bucky laughs, pushing at his shoulder. He reaches down and pulls at Steve’s belt. He takes the hint and removes his pants, so they're equally naked. "We won't even go far out. You'll be able to touch the rocks the whole time."

This doesn’t make Steve feel better. Neither does the fact that both himself and Bucky are standing in their boxers staring into river under the bridge. 

"Anyone could look down and see us standin' here, Buck." He spits, crossing his arms over his chest and wondering how Bucky gets him into these things. 

"Then ya' best get in before they think we're strippin’." 

Steve rolls his eyes because, well, they are stripping. Bucky reaches out his hand, and as Steve walks to take it, he moves slowly backwards until he's ankle deep in water. 

"Quit it!" Steve shouts and Bucky laughs, hand flying to hit himself in the chest. "Gimmie!" He yells, palm facing up, requesting to be held. 

Their fingers interlace and Steve reluctantly follows him into the water. "Only crazy people wanna swim in this frozen water." Steve huffs under his breath, walking until it's at their mid thigh. "Okay this is far enough."

"Nah, c'mon Stevie, it feels nice, don’t it?" Bucky asks with a way too kind smile that makes Steve’s feet feel unsteady. But he’s right, the water feels nice on his hot body and the rocks under his feet feel sturdy. 

Bucky's hands are soft and kind, thumb rubbing over his wrist when he feels scared, and he feels scared now. 

The water wets his boxer shorts and the cold creeps against his stomach. He stares into Bucky's chest. Steve has seen Bucky shirtless before, hell, Steve’s seem him naked, but lately, Bucky’s changing. Not in the obvious ways, but the flex of his arms when he carries something heavy is more prominent. His legs are toned and his chest is curved and his stomach flat. He looks _good._

He notices silly things that make his stomach twist. He notices dame’s curves and their breasts when they lean over, and they’re soft skin. But he _also_ notices Bucky’s cut waist, the line that V’s down into his pants and the smooth hairs that grow over his neck and cheeks. 

Dame’s are pretty, but Bucky’s pretty too. 

He stops as soon as he steps on a smooth rock. Bucky pulls at his hands, urging him to go in more. Steve pulls his hand free, only to splash Bucky with the cold water. He yelps, stepping back and slipping into the cold water. 

Steve laughs, rocking back when Bucky reappears looking like a drown cat, hair over his forehead and water dripping off his chin. He smirks, shoulders still under the water, looming like an alligator about to strike; and strike he does. 

He wraps his arms around Steve’s waist, putting all his weight into throwing the other boy back. Steve shouts, grabbing him and scraping at his back, but it’s no use, for he’s under the water and sputtering for air in no time at all. 

Bucky must feel it, the rumble of his lungs, where he’s face is pressed to Steve’s stomach. He bursts up, carrying Steve with him, and is holding him around the waist while Steve does his few short coughs, and then hits Bucky on the shoulder. 

“I can’t swim yet, you punk.” He mutters, wiping water from his face. Bucky’s hands tighten as he apologizes. Steve only pushes him off, letting him fall back into the water to swim laps around him while Steve stands and watches. 

Later that night, once he’s showered and no longer smells like lake water, he notices the purple on his skin. Bucky’s fingerprints are bruised into his hips, and Steve strokes a finger over them, secretly treasuring them. He covers them with his own hand as he falls asleep. 

 

The day Steve stops being hard on himself is the day the pigs fly. Bucky can’t stand the sad look on his face when he gets his math test back, a big 54% written in red ink on the top of the page. He walks a little slower through the halls, ripping back page after page to see what he’s done wrong. His shoulders are slouched and his lip is between his teeth and Bucky _hates_ the sad puppy look he always sports when something shitty happens.  
Bucky eases the page out of his hand, avoiding Steve’s watery blue eyes as he tosses it in the nearest trash can in the hall. Steve scuffs his feet and doesn’t say a word until they're out of the building. “Darn.”

“It’s no big deal.” States Bucky, and hold his hand inside his jacket pocket. He makes them stand real close together so they're bulky coats hide it. 

Steve’s always liked the hand holding. Even since he was little. He needed the tether between their body and his own, but Bucky never minded, he’s even grown fond of it. 

 

Sarah doesn’t look impressed, but not upset either. “A 54 is no good, Steven.”

“I know, Ma, I’ll try harder.” He says looking at the floor. She kisses his forehead to make him feel better, but he still feels like a disappointment. 

half way through the movie, Steve’s knees draw to his chest and his head falls between them. Bucky already knows he’s upset, and doesn’t ask, doesn’t push. He pulls a blanket off the arm of the couch and throws it over him. Then he pulls Steve into his side, rubbing his back through the wool. He cries himself out, stressed and over-exhausted, and prays the school year passes quick.

 

They end up slumped over against the arm of the couch. They lay straight so they can both fit, with Steve's face in Bucky's chest and Bucky's arms holding him. 

Sarah walks past a few times. Carries a basket of laundry and then some dirty cups and plates from Steve's room. She stops to pet over Bucky's hair. "You should sleep." she tells him. Never mentions Steve curled against him. 

He nods, shaking himself up, checking his watch. Steve gets up with him, neither of them sleeping, rather just resting. They move to the bedroom at the end of the hall, both falling into the bed and back into each others hold. 

Steve hums, and Bucky can feel it against his collarbone. He runs down his back, looking down at him. "Yer' so good to me, Buck." Steve slurs out. 

Bucky blushes, smiling to himself. "I gotta take care of you."

"Hm." Steve hums, leaning back so he can run circles on Bucky's chest. "Why?"

Bucky shrugs. "I want too."

Steve moves his hand to rub at Bucky's lower belly, fingers dancing along the waistband of his shorts. "I don't ever take care of you." 

"S'not true."

"Oh yeah?" Steve says, pushing up onto his knees, looking down at Bucky. "How do I even care for ya the way you do to me." 

Bucky laughs. "Umm..." Thinking. 

Steve leans in close, swinging one leg over his hips. "C'mon Buck, how do I take care of you?"

Bucky grins up at him. His pupils are blown and cheeks pink. "I don't know."

Steve puts both hands on Bucky's chest. Runs down and back up, each time going down lower. He leans down to whisper in his ear, hoping in the back of his mind he locked the bedroom door. "Lemme take care of you. You gonna let me?"

Bucky, unknowing, nods. 

And Steve kisses his jaw, behind his ear, down his neck, his hand still rubbing near the band of Bucky's shorts. 

Bucky moans at this, confused and turned on by this new boy over him. Brave and sexy, Steve pushed aside his teeshirt to kiss his collarbone. Bucky lifts his hips into him, grabbing at his back. 

Steve slides off him, laying left of him, mouth never leaving his hot skin, but his hands going down, down, down until he's inside his shorts, hand covering his hot flesh. He moves slow at first, like Bucky told him the girls do. Slow and teases, his fingers encircling his skin and picking up pase. 

Bucky groans, teeth digging into his lip as Steve mouths at his neck. He strokes fast, Bucky cursing and sputtering, words all fixed in with his name. Bucky’s hands grab at whatever of Steve they can reach, which is his side, and his fingers dig in. 

It doesn't take long. Bucky needed it. Not thinking, he reaches and cups Steve's face, kissing him hard. Steve's hand flies, and Bucky stutters, coming against his hand and his stomach. He drops his head back to the pillow, laughing. 

"Oh my god! What was that!" 

Steve's smiling too, hands still holding him. "I uh, I don't know."

"What possessed you? Where's my little innocent Steve?" Bucky giggles. 

"I don't know." Steve laughs, bringing his hand up, wiping it over Bucks chest. 

"Hey!" Bucky jumps. "Don't be gross."

Steve's all smiles. Happy he made Bucky happy. 

Bucky sighs. "C'mere."

Steve does. Let's Bucky kiss into his mouth, rub his cheekbones and down his back. Steve's hums. 

"Still best friends?" Steve asks, lips red and pupil eating up all the blue in his eyes. 

"Still best friends." Declares Bucky. Steve kisses him again before getting up to clean them off. 

He sleeps straight through the night, with Bucky pressed against his back. 

 

Bucky’s eighteen when he decides he no longer likes his dad. They’re on the walk home from school, and he decides he’s going to pack a bag and move out. Steve laughs like it’s a joke, but knows it isn’t. Mr. Barnes never liked it when Steve stayed over. The two boys somehow always ended up tangled together. He could force them into separate beds, and come morning Steve would still be curled into Bucky’s chest. Those were the things that made their Ma’s laugh over a cup of coffee, but not Mr. Barnes. 

So Steve never really liked Mr. Barnes. 

One day Bucky came over with tear tracks on his face and an angry mind, hands rolled into fists. It had taken a whole hour of sitting as far away on the couch as they could before he broke down. 

Mr. Barnes was tough on Bucky. Called him James, called him Solider. Hell, he forced Bucky to call him Sir. Bucky sat back and caught the wrath of his father while his little sister Rebecca was loved like she was the most precious thing in the world. Bucky was nothing but the family disappointment. 

He was the centre of the reasons Bucky stayed at Steve’s house most nights. 

Sarah was nothing but happy when he came in carrying his biggest bag filled with clothes, a pillow and all the cash he could find in his pockets. 

So, Bucky takes permanent residency on the left side of Steve’s bed, his clothes are mixed in with Steve’s and his toothbrush is held in the same cup on the counter. Bucky wakes smashed against his best friend’s chest every morning, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been happier. 

He gets a job, working down at the docks for song long in the day he smells salt water and Steve refuses to sit beside him at the dinner table him until he showers. Sarah kisses his forehead and thanks him for working so hard. 

The night passes smoothly, they eat spaghetti and tomato sauce and fall into Steve’s bed at half past nine. 

Bucky is running a hand through Steve’s hair when he tells him, “Ya know, I really like you.”

Steve scoffs, turning against his chest to face him. “I’d hope so.”

Bucky’s can feel his pupils expand. “Nah, like… I _really_ like you.”

Steve sits up. “No, you don’t. You like dames.”

“Well ya,” he says, looking down at his hands, “but I also like you.”

“You mean…” Steve thinks it over. “You like guys and gals?”

Steve knows theres places for boys like that. Boys who like other boys. Dirty clubs with scary men in leather outside down at the end of the city. The one time he walked by there, Bucky had made them cross the street and walk on the other side of the road, so he knows Bucky isn’t one of those boys. 

“I don’t know about _other guys,_ just you.” Bucky says and Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. “I love ya, ya know.”

Steve stutters for a second. He thinks of Bucky’s lips on his own, his hands on Bucky’s skin, _down his pants._

“You love me like you wanna kiss me n’ dance wi’ me?” Steve slurs. 

Bucky looks up at him, pushing down the internal monologue of _holyshitholyfuckholyfuckingshit_ his brain is so helpfully supplying. “Kinda?” He tells with his eyebrows raised, like he really hasn’t decided yet. 

Steve sits on his hands. “Huh.”

“If you don’t wanna’ do that, that’s fine too! I’m not saying we gotta’ do that, or anything.” Bucky babbles and Steve just smiles.  
“Nah, Buck. I wanna do that stuff.”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yah. Why not?”

“With me?”

“Well who else would I do it with.” Steve laughs, punching at his shoulder. Bucky doesn’t even feel it, numbed.  
He chokes on his words. “Oh! W-Well okay! We can-n do that! If that’s whatch’a want!”

Steve blushes pretty, grabs his jaw and kisses him. “Like that.”

Bucky melts into the mattress, and takes Steve with him. 

 

A lot changes. 

Bucky leaves in the morning. 

“I’ll miss you.” he says, soft and easy, rubbing Steve’s back. They're falling asleep under warm sheets on a cool evening. Everything would be perfect, if the war didn't look over them like a cloud.

Steve fakes a laugh. “nah, you won’t.” because he won't. He'll be so caught up in everything else he'll forget about him. 

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut. “don’t follow me there. please.”

Steve huffs. “You know I can't do that, Buck.”

Bucky kisses him. Hard, a clash of teeth and tongue. They tangle together so tight Steve hopes they won't be able to get out, and Bucky won't have to leave. 

"I love you." Bucky says once they break. Steve lies back on his pillow, right of Bucky. He strokes a hand down his cheek, over his jaw. 

 

"I love you too."

_Got so much to lose,_  
_Got so much to prove,  
_ _God, don't let me lose my mind._

**Author's Note:**

> im @ghostycas on tumblr if u wanna say hi. or don't.  
> comments give me more than life, comments give me acess to heaven.  
> the comentary in this fic is inspired by to kill a mockingbird, my fav book :-)
> 
> UNBETA'D!!! TELL ME IF I FUCKED UP!!!!!!!!!


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